Ruthie's Place has a charm that grows on you

There's really nothing pretty about Ruthie's Place, unless you're talking about the owner herself. From the outside, the bar looks like a shipping container and practiced drinkers might drive past it for years without knowing it's there.

One clue is the yellow sign advertising TV and pool. It's similar to those seedy motels that publicize amenities such as cable and hot tubs, which, depending on the type of person you are, is either magnetic or repulsive.

Beneath the haze of cigarette smoke, there's a slightly morbid sense of dissipation to the room. Like any decent bar, the mood makes you wonder what it would be like to truly belong in a place like this.

The same people have been coming here for years, paying cash for PBR, eating peanuts from the plastic bags clipped on the snack tower and shooting pool with other regulars. The TV is turned to ESPN, and a fair number of customers are paying attention.

The ladies room is surprisingly nice, with a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers on the counter. Then you start talking to strangers and bringing your dates along so you can call out your favorite Neil Young songs when they come on the jukebox. It's then you realize that you do belong here. That's how classic Montrose dives work.

It's not that Ruthie's Place is asking for any favors. If it isn't your favorite bar, it's someone else's, and these people don't care much what you think. Unless you're being nice, and then they'll listen.